


Drunken Nights

by writtenthroughtime



Series: WTT's Posts for ImagineClaireandJamie [24]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, S2 Missing Scene, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: Original Prompts: Write a scene where Jamie returns home in Paris, completely drunk and the effort Claire has to put in just to get him into bed with him fighting all the way because he wants his Sassenach.
Anonymous asked: Hi I am a huge fan of you gals! I love drunk Jamie in Dragonfly in Amber and Claire was such a sweetheart to him. Imagine the unwritten scene after he fell asleep at the hearth and wake up in bed the next morning from Claire POV.





	

The warm sun felt incredible on my skin along with the refreshing breeze off the Seine. I felt my eyes close and mouth curve up in a smile from my contentment. A solid warm hand wound it’s way around my waist. 

Jamie. It had to be. 

The hand gave my hip a slight squeeze before he leaned over and kissed the side of my head. 

“Beautiful day don’t you think, Sassenach?” Jamie’s deep burr rumbled next to my ear. 

“Mmm… yes it is, and the little one is enjoying it too.” I slowly stroked my baby bump, feeling the child within tumble and turn with excitement. 

“Ach, that’s because they’re on an adventure.” His hand covered mine as the other came up from my hip to cradle his child. 

I turned and looked at him, his short red curls--more waves than the riotous curls when worn long--tousled in the wind and glinted copper in the French spring sun. 

“I do love you,” I whispered to him. 

Jamie smiled and leaned forward and kissed my nose. “I love you too, Claire.” 

Taking a deep breath through his nose he groaned and pulled me from the bridge’s railing. “God, I’m hungry Sassenach. Where are you and the ween wanting to go?” 

I laughed and twined my fingers through his tugging him to the crosswalk. “How about the boulangerie on the corner. I’m sure a buttered croissant and a nice tea will settle well with us. I bet you’ll be able to find something to suit your appetite there.” 

He gave my hand a small squeeze, “That sounds like a bonnie idea, except that’s no a boulangerie, but a wee cafe. They do seem to make their own confections if the smell is anything to go off of.” 

We waited for the automobiles to pass and quickly darted across the street to the cafe in question. Jamie pulled out a chair of a small bistro table and helped me sit down. 

“Butter croissant and earl gray?” He teased, my nose wrinkled in revulsion. 

“Please no Earl Gray, you know I can’t stand the stuff especially now with the baby. A good Oolong or a local floral tea would be best. And could I perhaps have two croissants? One buttered the other chocolate?” I gave him my most innocent smile, he threw his head back in laughter.

“Anything ye want, mo graidh I’ll get it for ye.” He bowed ceremoniously and kissed the top of my hand before turning and entering the cafe. 

I admired his backside clad in perfectly tailored khaki trousers as he walked away. I sighed and watched as the autos zoomed up and down the street, the cramped, cobbled, ancient streets of Paris only just able to accommodate the modern vehicles. 

“Claire?” I heard Jamie call and looked up but he wasn’t there. “Claire?” I looked around again and still no sight of Jamie. The streets began to quiet and turn dark, the bright spring sunshine replaced by a lit taper and the low burning embers of a fire. My sundress gone, replaced by the blue silk Parissien dressing gown and my shift. The bistro now the opulent couch of Jared’s apartment. 

My heart dropped. 

We weren’t in 1940s Paris enjoying a war free time and the spoils of celebrating citizens, but preparing for and trying to prevent a war to come.

“Claire? Sorcha, where are ye?” Jamie slurred, drunkenly stomping through the foyer. 

I bolted upright and ran to find him just as he crashed into the wall as he tried to make his way up the stairs. A large, languid smile lit up his face as his eyes went in and out of focus. 

“Mo Sorcha, there ye are! And the ween!” He leaned over to grab me, stumbled and fell down the two steps he had managed to climb. I sighed and resisted the urge to smile. 

“Can you get up?” I asked him. “I can’t carry you.” 

He looked up at me, arms outstretched begging for my embrace. I huffed and held out a hand. He took it with both of his and unsteadily pulled himself up. I staggered under his weight and then guided him back to the study and the blue daybed. 

Jamie reeked of smoke, alcohol and cheap perfume. He had some explaining to do once his mind was sobered up. I guided him into a sitting position while before pulling off his boots and attempting to get his coat off. Before I got the chance to even loosen his cravat the drunken fool flopped over like a dead fish, snoring in slumber. 

At this I did let out a laugh. 

“Goodnight Jamie.” I whispered and covered him with a blanket. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. 

In Gaelic he said a mumbled sentence and pulled me tight to him, not letting me go. His arm wrapped around cradling the baby, and his legs trapped intertwined with mine. With his nose in the crook of my neck, I felt his body relax and fall back into a deep sleep.


End file.
